


Narrow the Bandwidth (Can't You Stay Where You Are Just For Now)

by GenuineRisk



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad Ideas That Aren't, Bucket List, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Geno Rolls Great Joints, Geno's Love of Fifty Shades, Hair Pulling, Holding Hands, M/M, Mentions of Jonathan Toews, No One's Love of Doctor Who, REALLY wishing I had written in Kaner waterskiing naked along Sid's dock..., Shameless BlackhawksTV Plug, Sid's Love of Jaws, Sidney Crosby is Stoned, Sunsets, Watching Movies, oblivious idiots in love, smoking pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineRisk/pseuds/GenuineRisk
Summary: A very determined Geno, some seriously good weed and a surprisingly curious Sid. That about sums it up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Big giant thanks to PensToTheEnd for her beta and all her help with Geno. It is very much appreciated. 
> 
> Takes place some time after Sid's days with Stanley, but prior to the start of practice for the World Cup.
> 
> Geno is not married, engaged or otherwise attached and doesn't have a son. Just makes everything easier.
> 
> A quick warning for recreational drug use and some minor bashing of Patrick Kane by Sid without actually mentioning his name. So maybe Sidney is a little bitter and angry over the whole MVP thing last year...
> 
> Part of title taken from Ever After, by Marianas Trench
> 
> Finally, I have no idea if Mario has a high school yearbook, but he does in this story. Pretty sure he smokes pot though.

It’s not that it was unusual for Geno to spend random weekends with Sid at the lake house, not really. After all the years and all the _everything_ between them, Sid just kind of expected that Geno would show up at his door from time to time and it was okay. He did it in Pittsburgh pretty much from the beginning, so of course he would do it here, as well. It was so _not_ unusual that Geno had the security codes to let himself in the front gates. Both sets. Sid stopped short of giving him his own key, but whatever. He was there now.

 

The two men sat next to each other at the table on the back deck. It was probably Sid’s most favorite spot anywhere, especially when it was like this, with the sun heading down for the day and a cool breeze finally kicking up and chasing away the mosquitoes. The colors skidding across the water were kind of magical and if Sid got lost in watching them for a bit, well, he was man enough to own his particular brand of dweebness. Geno, on the other hand, was too busy concentrating on the small wooden tray in front of him and didn’t even seem to notice the sunset or Sid at the moment.

 

“Actions have consequences, Geno. I don’t know about this, still don’t understand the point. I just think it’s a terrible idea and I don’t get why I’m on your bucket list anyway. What does that even mean? It’s kind of weird,” Sid said quietly many minutes later. He was still looking out at the water, sipping his beer. Maybe if he didn’t look at what his friend was busy doing next to him, it wouldn’t really be happening and they could just sit here and enjoy a drink and the sunset like they usually did, no harm, no foul. This reasoning made perfect sense in Sid’s brain at the moment and that was kind of exactly why Geno was here doing what he was doing, that and a few other reasons he wasn’t quite ready to voice.

 

“You know I’m big weirdo, so shut up and go with. Is important.” Geno’s tone was very matter of fact. His hands hovered over the tray, breaking up a large green bud of the finest cannabis sativa Pittsburgh had to offer. He decided it was not important to tell Sid that it was Mario who hooked him up. Too much explaining involved and he also didn’t want his friend to know that he recklessly crossed the border with it hidden away in his stuff. Better he thought Geno picked it up in Halifax or someplace else along the way.

 

“And you just turned 30, G, what’s with the bucket list? Why do you even have one? Is there something you need to tell me? Hey, wait a minute. Are you sick? Don’t fuck around, just tell me if you’re sick. That’s it. Oh my god, you have cancer, don’t you? Fuck, fuck. I’m being serious here, Geno, what’s going on?” Sid finally turned to look at his friend. His eyes were big and round and he had visibly paled and was damn near hyperventilating at the thoughts swirling in his head.

 

 _“_ I’m not sick, Sid. Hey, come on, no look like that. Mean it, I’m not sick. Cross heart promise.” Geno was a little shocked by Sid’s reaction. He touched his own chest with one hand and reached over to grasp Sid’s wrist with the other. He held on long enough to see his friend's breathing begin to return to normal and the color come back to his face and then he gave a little nod and turned his attention back to the tray.

 

Geno was very careful to remove the few seeds and stems he found before pulling a new pack of rolling papers from the pocket of his hoodie. The bright orange color of the Zig Zag logo caught Sid’s attention and he shifted his focus from Geno’s face to his hands. Geno flipped open the flap and very carefully pulled out a paper, taking great pains to not tear or crease it before he was ready. He hunched over a little and folded in the ends just a tiny bit. After setting it down, he used the edge to scoop up enough pot to fill the paper evenly from side to side and then picked it up again. He carefully balanced it on his fingertips, rolling his thumbs from the center to the outer edges, packing down the pot as he went along, spinning a perfectly shaped tube with tightly twisted ends. He finished by running his tongue along the seam to seal it and then repeated the entire process two more times before looking up at Sid with a big smile on his face.

 

“You should be impressed. I’m roll perfect joints. Is good life skill.” Geno looked and sounded so pleased with himself that it bordered on adorable.

 

Sid took a long pull of his beer and just looked at him like he had three heads, still not completely convinced he wasn’t dying or something. Even so, he couldn’t deny, at least to himself, that he was just the teeniest bit curious why everyone thought it was so great to get high. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to at least give it try. Millions of people can’t all be wrong. He raised the wrist that Geno had touched close to his nose and sniffed. Of course it smelled like pot. Geno had it all over his fingers. After a moment Sid’s tongue poked out and licked at the same spot, tasting the faint bitterness of the residue left behind. It wasn’t awful and some of the concern in his eyes gave way to a spark of interest. This did not go unnoticed by Geno, who was looking right back.

 

“They’re beautiful, picture perfect,” Sid managed to say with a healthy dose of sarcasm, still watching him intently. ”Let me just make it clear that when we get arrested I’m totally throwing you under the bus. That being said, what’s really going on here? You still haven’t answered my question about making a bucket list in the first place. That’s pretty out there even for you.”

 

Geno set the joints on the tray and stood up. “Be right back, then talk. And I’m no see any bus, Sid. Why say you hurt me like that anyway? Is not very nice.”

 

Geno disappeared into the house shaking his head and reappeared about five minutes later with a large mug of steaming tea, a bottle of honey and a thick bar of dark chocolate, all of which he set on the table in front of Sid. Sid, to his credit, didn’t say a word. He just looked at Geno with raised eyebrows and waited patiently.

 

“Okay. Why Geno have bucket list?” the big man said while taking his seat again. “Is simple answer. Keep dreaming I’m die in horrible accident and it scare me. Could happen you know, any time. Could get hit with puck just right, could fall out sky, could have artery explode, could get shot by asshole. Look for Paul Walker and Anton Yelchin and Purple Rain man and guy who play for New York Giants and girl who suppose win The Voice. Dead. All young and dead. Okay, most young. Still dead. What if I’m die? Still have things to do so yes, is bucket list of everything left for me. _Get High With Best Friend Sidney Crosby_ is number 4. Summer almost over now, I’m smoke with Sid and cross off before head to World Cup. Hope Sid not say no. And close mouth before something fly there and you choke to death and ruin list.”

 

Sid didn’t know what to say. He closed his mouth, reached down and pulled two more bottles of beer out of the cooler next to the table. One he set in front of Geno and the other he opened and quickly drained half, a little voice inside his head telling him some liquid courage wasn’t necessarily a bad thing at this point in time. Sid almost always listened to that voice.

 

“Number 4? I’m _number 4?_   What’s number 1 and 2 and 3 and why …” Sid was mumbling to himself and quickly stopped when he saw Geno watching him with a look on his face. He switched gears and began to ramble instead. “I’m sorry, G. You’re kind of blindsiding me here and I don’t know what I should say. Have you talked to anyone about this? What kind of accident was it? How many times have you had this dream anyway? It’s a normal thing unless you dream it all the time or it preoccupies you or becomes some kind of obsession. I’ve dreamed I died before, too, a couple of times, and just chalked it up to stress. How’s your stress level been lately? Getting enough sleep? How ‘bout fluids? I don’t know, my friend, I still don’t think this is such a good idea. What if someone sees us or smells us? How would we explain that? I don’t want a record and neither should you. This is just the kind of thing that could cause some real trouble for us.”

 

“Really, Sid? Who think will see us?” Geno looked pointedly through the growing dark at the acres of nothing and large expanse of water. “You much too uptight. And not suppose be paranoid til _after_ get high. See? I’m bring hot tea with honey and dark chocolate just in case. Old trick for keep you calm. Maybe should have now, first, _then_ I’m light up.”

 

Geno slid the mug closer to Sid and reached to open the chocolate. Sid slapped his hand away.

 

“Stop. I’m not being paranoid, just realistic. Seriously, Geno, what if we get caught? It happens all the time. Imagine the headlines. Imagine Sully’s face or Pat’s or our _moms_. Fuck, imagine _Mario's_.” Geno snorted a little at that one.

 

“ _Siiiiidneeeeey_.” That was pretty much all it took to sway his friend and Geno knew it and blatantly took advantage. He caught Sid’s eyes and held them as he reached into his hoodie pocket again, this time for a lighter. He picked up one of the joints, looked it over smugly and carefully snipped an end off with his teeth. Sid stared back, a little mesmerized while Geno placed it between his lips and held it there.

 

“I’ve never done this before, can you believe it? I’m 29 years old and never smoked pot not once in all my life. Even my sister gets high. Wouldn’t shock me to find out my parents smoke, too. I really suck.” Sidney’s voice was kind of soft and fell somewhere between wistful and embarrassed. “Humor me, Geno, and swear to god you’re not sick or something before you light that thing, okay? I just need to know. I don’t want to be thinking bad thoughts if I’m really going to do this. Please.”

 

Geno slid his chair right up against Sidney’s and turned in it until he was mostly facing him. “Already cross heart promise, Sid. I’m not lie about be sick. Would never. Now come on, is only little pot, not hurt us. Will even make feel good. So we do this? Is okay?” He flicked the lighter. The flame sparked tall and bright and Geno held Sid’s eyes for a moment. He smiled, raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly and waited until his friend did the same before finally lighting the twisted end of the paper.

 

The excess burned off in a quick burst of orange as Geno slowly inhaled and the tip of the joint began to smolder. After several seconds of holding it in, he exhaled through his nose, smiling a dopey little smile at Sid through the smoke.

 

“Jesus, G, that’s fucking gross. No way I’m doing that,” Sidney laughed, shaking his head.

 

“Course not, is too soon for tricks,” Geno replied. “I’m know you smoke cigar before, so just do like that. Suck some in mouth and hold, maybe inhale little bit first. Too much and you cough and not very pleasant. Just go slow and easy. Not need much, is really good shit.”  

 

Geno took one more quick hit and handed the joint to Sidney. He watched as he slowly raised it to his mouth, stopping short of placing it there because he wasn’t entirely sure how he should be holding it. His awkwardness made the big man smile and he’d definitely be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised at how easy it had been to get his friend to smoke with him. Geno expected at least a couple hours’ worth of arguments as to why Sidney Crosby and marijuana would never be a thing that would ever happen in this lifetime. And in all truthfulness, he figured Sid would probably just end up throwing the pot in the lake and lecturing him about the evils of drug use until Geno got sick of it and left or threw Sid in the water to shut him up because unlike Sid and marijuana, Sid and his soapbox were very much a real thing. It wouldn’t have been the first time the Captain ended up all wet and soggy during a visit from Geno and he continued to smile at the thought of it happening again. Yes, he knew they had a strange way of doing things, but it almost always worked for them.

 

A good minute or two had passed since Sid took the joint and the hot had long since gone out. He finally set it down on the table and sat watching Geno with a very curious look in his eyes. He was used to seeing all of his friend’s emotions play out across his face because that was just _Geno_ and that’s how he was wired. He wore his heart and everything else on his sleeve, always has, and could have entire conversations without ever once uttering a word. Sid thinks that he’s the only person he’s ever known who is physically incapable of emotionally hiding anything or keeping any kind of a neutral expression on his face and he kind of loves that about him. He keeps it real and is pretty damn great at keeping Sid real as well. Who else could get Sid to willingly smoke a little pot and actually really want to?

 

Sid reached over and flicked him hard right on the wrist bone. Geno yelped. “Hey, what’s going on in that brain of yours? You’re a billion miles away. Either this is some supremely stellar shit that fucks you up after a couple hits, in which case I’m not even trying it, or you’ve got something to say. Spill it, Malkin.”

 

“Is nothing. Just surprise how easy Sid is.” Sid cocked an eyebrow and smirked at that. “You know how I’m mean. Thought give more shit for smoking, maybe not even try. Was ready for toss you if too pissy.”

 

“I don’t get pissy!” Now it was Geno who smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, so maybe I deserved one or two of those dunks. I don’t know, G, things change, _I’ve_ changed. I’m looking at 30 now and it all seems to have slowed down a little, in a good way. I feel more centered, more sure of things, like I can see ahead and I’m okay with it all. Maybe I just got my priorities more in line. You ever feel like that, like maybe it’s okay to finally take a deep breath, say to hell with it and just go for it because you _want_ to and not because you’re _supposed_ to?”

 

Geno looked very thoughtful for a moment, thinking over what Sid had just said to him, and then he smiled. “ _Sometimes just say what the fuck_. Is quote from _Risky Business_ , great American classic. That Joel very smart boy. So yes, is okay feel like that, good feel like that. Kind of same for me, has been a while now. Is you, me, growing up, Sid. Is good thing, make time for us now too, and things maybe afraid try before, like you getting high and me other things. Here, I’m light again. Remember, slow and easy.”

 

Geno held the lighter out and waited for Sid to put the joint in his mouth. He did and Geno lit it and everything seemed to go alright. Sid coughed a little but managed to actually inhale and not choke out all the smoke. Score! He took a second small hit and handed it back to Geno while smiling at nothing in particular, then sat back in his chair and watched his friend take a turn before handing it back to Sid. After Sidney’s third turn it was pretty obvious he was well on his way to buzzed. His eyes were at half-mast and he was kind of limp and slouchy. Geno took a good long look at him and laid the remainder of the joint and the lighter back on the tray.

 

“I think I’m likin’ this, Geno. It’s sorta like four fingers of really good bourbon and an hour long steam massage all at the same time and I don’t even have to move. Light that back up.”

 

“Is first time, Sid, need go slow. Too much too fast make feel weird, bad weird, all gross and stuff. We take time. Is early and can smoke more later. How you feel?” Geno was still turned in his chair watching his friend.

 

“I don’t know. Good? Kinda loose and floaty. I felt it straight down my arms and legs from my second hit, like all my muscles finally uncurled. I like it, G, feels pretty great actually.” Sid was leaning back into the deep cushion of his chair, legs splayed out under the table, eyes now closed, soft smile on his face. He looked more relaxed than Geno could ever remember seeing him other than when he was fast asleep, and Geno smiled just as softly to himself.

 

“Good. That good, Sid. I’m same. Hungry? I’m not have lunch or dinner. Could use some food. Want I grill something? You sit, enjoy, I’m know where keep things. Back soon.” Geno slid his chair back and got up, lighting the grill and the torches on his way inside. Before long Sid’s mouth was watering in anticipation of biting into the sausage, pepper, tomato and onion kabobs that Geno had sizzling on the grill. They smelled incredible.  

 

In no time flat Geno had cold bottles of beer and two plates piled high set in front of them on the table. Sid sat up and Geno sat down and soon bottles were drained and plates were emptied and the two men were left lounging in their chairs, full and happy.

 

“Oh my god, Geno, that was fantastic. Hit the spot dead on. Thanks, man, you’re way too good to me. You want another beer?” Sid didn’t wait for an answer, just reached down and grabbed two more, sliding one to his friend.

 

Geno took a drink and then was on his feet again. “One sec, Sidney, not move.” He quickly brushed down the grill, threw on the cover and then pointed at the tea and candy. Sid shook his head no, so Geno took them and the empty plates into the kitchen before finding his seat again. Sid just rolled his eyes and sipped his beer.

 

They spent the next hour or so making small talk and looking up. There weren’t nearly as many stars visible in the Pittsburgh sky and Geno was always kind of blown away by how many there were here. He loved it so much that sometimes he’d fall asleep on Sid’s deck just watching them like a giant movie screen. He was dorky that way. And he was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice Sid had lit and hit the joint and was now passing what was left of it over to him.

 

“It’s later, G,” Sid managed to get out while holding in a lungful of smoke. Geno was too surprised to do anything other than take it and hit it himself, a few times. Sid exhaled slowly and watched him through his lashes.

 

“So Geno, I’ve been wanting to ask you this all night and don’t get mad, but how come we’re not smoking outta one of those cool little pipes or something. I mean anyone with such fucked up taste in jeans would definitely smoke their dope in a ceramic dragon snout or a glass frog’s ass eh. Where’s yours? Come on, lemme see it. I bet it’s _preeetty_.” Sid was teasing Geno and thought he was just fucking hilarious. Secretly, so did Geno.

 

“My jeans bomb, asshole. You jealous ass not fit something so cool as this. Ha.” Geno knew he looked awesome and just grinned at his friend. “And pipes for posers. Nice rice paper joint always clean, no weird taste, no chemicals. Best for smoking, best for good buzz. Is all weed, nothing extra.”

 

Sid was getting comfortable with inhaling and could now easily hold in a respectable hit, which he did again and let it out slowly just like Geno did. “You sound like a really cool ad for Zig Zag. Maybe I should film you. Us.” Now it was Sid who slid his chair right up against Geno’s, leaning sideways until their shoulders were touching. And he was actually reaching for his phone. “Everybody raves about how great stupid Blackhawks TV is and how Toews and that little fuck who stole my trophy sing and dance and fake fight and shake their asses for the camera. Just imagine the hits we’d get if we aired this on Pens TV! Nobody would bother with them anymore. We’d be _famous,_ Geno.”  

 

“Yes, just imagine. Oh my god, you  _so_ cut off. No more beer, no more pot. Sidney Crosby is lightweight. And we already famous. Now who big weirdo?” Geno’s eyes were sparkling and he couldn’t help laughing at the crushed look on Sid’s face. He reached over and tugged on one of his ears. “Come on, silly, we go inside. I’m get cold out here.”

 

“Fuck you, G, you know what I mean.” Sid was pouting a little and rubbing his ear. “Yeah, alright, I’m kinda cold too. Sure, let’s go in. I’ll get the torches. And I am not a lightweight. You, however, are a great big dick. Just make sure you grab that tray.”

 

“I’m _know_   have great big dick. You not need tell me every time see me.” Geno also thought he was just fucking hilarious.

 

“So bad. Predictable and so, so bad. You are also cut off. No more beer, no more pot, no more really lame jokes. Now help me up. And don’t forget the tray.” They both pushed their chairs back from the table and Geno popped right up and stuck his hand out in front of Sidney. He pushed it away.

 

“I was kidding. God. I can still get myself up when I need to. Did you forget _you’re_ the old man here?” It took Sid a few seconds to figure out why Geno was laughing so hard and when he did, he was laughing right along with him. He even managed to get himself out of the chair. “Just, _shit_ , Geno. You rot _so_ fucking much. I really hate you.”

 

“Now who lie, Sid never hate me. _You think I’m gorgeous, you want kiss me, you want  hug me, you want love me…_ ” Geno sang in a sappy, heavily-accented voice.

 

Sid tripped over the chair.

 

“What, you not like Sandra Bullock? She one tall glass water for not Russian chick—almost hot as Ben Bratt in movie. Another American classic. _Miss Con... Con_... Whatever. I’m watch with you some time, okay? You like it.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. Can we go in now?” Sid was a little embarrassed. He told himself it was because he tripped over the chair and tried very hard to just concentrate on capping the torches and piling the empties in the recycle bin while Geno pointed between the two. They were in the house a few minutes later and Sid locked the door behind them and turned off the mudroom lights. Just in case. Geno was still laughing as they walked into the kitchen.

 

Sid took a moment to set all the alarms and security timers while Geno opened the fridge to grab a couple bottled waters with his free hand. He handed them to Sid and followed him into the front room. Geno set the tray on the coffee table and flopped down in his favorite corner of the couch. Sid got comfortable in the other corner and threw a bottle at him.

 

“Here asshole. What do you wanna watch?” Sid turned on the tv, put up the guide and slowly scrolled through it.

 

“Oooo, _Fifty Shades Grey_. Most awesome, Sid, and look, is just starting. Quick put on.” Sid turned to look at his friend. After a good 20 seconds of stunned silence, he pointed the remote at the tv without even looking and hit enter.

 

“Yup, _Jaws_ it is. Fine choice, G.” He was still staring at Geno, who turned pink and mumbled something in Russian. It sounded rude.

 

Geno may have been pouting a little over in his corner, but Sid was actually really into the movie or at least what was left of it. He’d seen it a bunch of times, but it doesn’t ever seem to get old and he’s still squeamish about eating shell pasta ever since that autopsy scene with Hooper and Chrissie’s severed arm. And then there were the quotes. Geno wasn’t the only one who could quote great American classics. Things like _Michael, did you hear your father? Out of the water NOW_ and _That’s some bad hat, Harry_ and _You’re gonna need a bigger boat_ could be heard coming from Sid’s corner of the couch in perfect character voices. Now it was Geno staring at Sid in stunned silence, but Sid was completely oblivious, way too busy watching Brody, Hooper and Quint try to figure out how to kill a carcharodon carcharias before it ate all three of them for lunch. It was already eating their boat. Geno decided now would be the perfect time to spark another joint.

 

He stretched his leg out across the expanse of cushions and jabbed his toes hard and sharp into the side of Sid’s thigh just above his knee. He swore he could see daylight between Sid’s ass and the couch and smiled widely. When his friend turned to glare at him, Geno made the universal sign for getting high and gestured toward the tray. Sid’s glare slid right off his face and he nodded enthusiastically. While Geno got everything ready, Sid went to find an ashtray and set it on the table before falling back on the couch.

 

“Here, Sid, careful not burn anything, like couch or self.” Sid took a long hit and reached over to give it back to his friend. They passed it back and forth a couple times until the movie ended and some idiotic infomercial came on. Sid hated infomercials and took a break to find something else. He settled on Doctor Who because really, what else would you watch while slowly getting stoned? It took the boys less than five minutes to lose interest in the Doctor and River Song.

 

“ _Fine_. Just know that we will never ever talk about this, not ever. Not even a little bit,” Sid said as he picked up the remote once again and put on the rest of _Fifty Shades_ for Geno, who made some weird noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal. “I cannot even _believe_ you’d watch this shit.” The Captain much preferred the book, but wisely decided to keep that little tidbit to himself.

 

“You such good friend. Mean that. Now come here, arm getting tired for reaching.” Geno leaned his head back against the overstuffed cushion and patted the space next to him before stretching his arm along the back of the couch. Sid slid over and got comfortable again. His feet went up on the coffee table and his head went back into Geno’s hand, which had conveniently ended up right behind Sid’s head. They sat like that and finished the second joint off in several more hits, both men now having left buzzed behind and well on their way to high.

 

“These are so ugly. Where did you even find them?” Sid laughed as he traced a finger along the frayed outer seam of Geno’s jeans. He wasn’t wrong. The front was dark blue denim and the back light blue. “They look like you yanked them out of a 1970’s time machine. Or went dumpster diving in one of those big green bins. Or raided the back of Mario’s closet. I think I’ve seen pictures of him wearing these very same jeans in his high school yearbook.”

 

“Thought Sid say no talk. _Not even little bit_.” Geno looked at him through half-closed eyes and tried not to smile much as he mocked his friend. “You know what I’m pay for jeans? Ho, not even say. Too painful.”

 

“You got robbed, G. And I meant no talking about your choice of movies and the part about me going along with it.”

 

“Is great movie. Much informative.” Geno watched the television for a few more minutes and then turned to look at Sid again. “You and girl in movie have same eyes. You have much better mouth though. Is more pretty.”

 

“Geno, my eyes are mostly brown. Hers are blue. And your eyes are red, like _really_ red. I’m pretty sure you’re high.” Sid was still processing the mouth comment and chose to ignore it. “You thirsty? Want more water or something? I could use some.”

 

Geno shook his head and handed Sid his mostly full bottle so he wouldn’t have to get up for another one. He drank it down quickly, capped it and tossed it at the table. It rolled off the side.

 

“You funny, Sid. Always such neat freak, now look. Little bit pot and you happy for leave mess all over deck and throw trash at nice furniture. Is lucky I’m here and take care.” Geno grinned at Sid and tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

 

“What do you mean, lucky? You’re the one who gave me the pot. I’d still be a neat freak if it wasn’t for you. You _should_ take care of me, you corrupted me.” Sid closed his eyes and pushed his head back into Geno’s hand. It felt too good to pretend he didn’t like it. And it was Geno. They’ve rubbed each other’s heads tons of times. It wasn’t weird at all.

 

“So you like? Make feel good?” Geno was talking about the marijuana, but Sid thought he meant his hand in his hair.

 

“Love it. Really like when you pull on it. Feels so good, you don’t even know.” Sid was practically purring and rubbing his head all over Geno's hand.

 

“Sidney? I’m not mean _this_ ,” Geno said and twisted his hand tight in Sid’s hair, giving it a healthy yank. “I ask if like smoke with me. You feel good? Relax and stuff? Not sorry I’m come here?”

 

“What? Oh, yeah, like it a lot. Most relaxing thing I think I’ve ever done, so thank you, Geno. Yeah, I really like smoking with you. And don’t be stupid, you’re welcome here anytime. You must know that by now. You’re right, though, I thought you were talking about the other thing, which, by the way, I think I like just as much. Not gonna lie.” Sid pushed his head back into Geno’s hand again just so there was no further misunderstanding.

 

Geno seemed more than satisfied with Sid’s response and the two settled comfortably against each other and watched the rest of the movie. The credits were rolling when Sid leaned his head on Geno’s shoulder and asked him what the first three things were on his bucket list. Sure, Sid was high, he couldn’t even argue that point, but he couldn’t get the damn list out of his head either and it felt like it was something really important that he needed to know. And really, _number 4??_ Maybe someone should have explained to him that smoking pot, especially really good pot like the kind Geno had, narrows bandwidth and just magnifies _everything_ , whether you intend it to or not. Maybe someone should have explained that to Geno, as well. Geno leaned his head on Sid’s and took a deep breath.

 

“Will sound strange, but is truth. Number 3 is _Hold Hands With Sidney Crosby.”_ Geno’s voice was quiet and shy and he sort of stiffened against Sid, waiting for his reaction.

              

“But G, we kind of hold hands all the time. I just don’t see how that’s list worthy.”

 

“No, Sid, not like work or time we go see Lady Gaga concert. Not what I’m mean. Is embarrass, sorry.” Geno shifted his arm behind Sid like he was going to move it or take it away and Sid wasn’t having any of that. He reached up and grabbed his wrist, pulling it down over his shoulder until Geno’s arm was wrapped around him and his hand was resting against his chest.

 

Sid looked at Geno’s hand, really looked at it maybe for the first time ever. It was noticeably larger than his own, strong and perfectly formed with long slender fingers. Sid reached for his other one, as well, so he could look at them together. Geno thought Sid had a pretty mouth; well, Sid thought Geno had pretty hands, beautiful even. They looked like they belonged gliding over the keys of a Steinway, not covered in gloves and wrapped around a hockey stick. He thought it was strange that he never noticed that about his friend before. They were also warm and surprisingly soft. Sid held one to his own, palm to palm, and traced along the outline of Geno's hand, careful to follow every finger and his thumb almost like he was trying to memorize their shape. When he finished, he covered it with his other hand and folded it between them. Geno gasped softly and tightened his fingers around Sid’s.

 

They were holding hands, but holding was much too passive a word. Their fingers were now playing up and down each other’s and Geno used his other hand to draw circles on Sid’s while Sid did the same to his. One drew nails along the back of the other’s hand, resulting in closed eyes and parted lips. The other returned the favor by drawing nails down the inside of the other’s wrist, resulting in a visible shudder. Sid tilted his head just enough to be able to look directly at his friend.

 

“Is this what you meant, Geno? Is this how you want to hold hands?” Sid’s voice came out all breathy and unsteady.

 

Geno looked down at him and nodded, not quite able to speak. There was something fragile on his face, almost fearful, like when you close your bedroom door for the night, but you know damn well the monsters are in there under your bed just waiting for you. Sid looked back at him with the same gutted expression. Neither was sure what to do with all that feeling.

 

“And the second thing? Am I part of that too? Tell me what’s next on your list.” His voice was still breathy and unsteady and it just sounded so good on him. Geno continued to look at his friend and it was kind of easy to follow his thought process just from watching him watch Sid. It didn’t take him very long to arrive at a decision.

 

Geno untangled his hands from Sid’s and swung up and over him in one fluid motion. He ended up facing him, knees on either side of his thighs so that he was sort of straddling his lap, hands now gripping the back of the couch on either side of Sid’s head. As soon as he was satisfied that he wasn’t going to be pushed off, or worse, Geno slid his hands to Sid’s shoulders and sat back on his thighs. They just kept looking at each other, still not sure what to do with everything between them. It had probably always been there, but so far below the surface that it never had to be addressed or dismissed or acted on in any way. It was just assumed to be part of them, part of their magic together, and here they were all these years later, sitting in the dark, both of them a little stoned, silently obsessing over each other’s mouth. Neither wanted to be the first to say they were suffocating on the other’s nearness, damn near coming apart from being so close. Surprisingly, or not, it was Sid who broke the tension.

 

“I meant what I said earlier, G.” Sid put his hands on Geno’s thighs and slowly slid them back and forth as Geno raised an eyebrow. “These are the ugliest jeans I’ve ever seen. I really truly think I hate them.”

 

And like it was the most normal thing in the world, Sid pulled Geno’s head down to his and kissed him while they were laughing, quick and chaste and square on the mouth. They pretty much stopped laughing right away and Geno had that look on his face again. He raised a finger and touched it to Sid’s lips like he couldn’t believe that just happened. Sid closed his eyes.

 

“Yes, you part second thing on list. Open eyes and look at me. You part everything,” Geno said quietly. He had decided now was not the time to be shy. He cupped Sid’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead and then his nose and finally to the corner of his mouth, giving him plenty of time and opportunity to react in whatever way he was going to. He needed to know if Sid’s kiss had been an impulsive mistake or some sort of permission on his part. Turns out it wasn’t a mistake. It absolutely was not a mistake.

 

Sid wound his fingers in Geno’s hair, pulling until his mouth opened just the way he wanted it and then he kissed him again. This time there was no quick and chaste. Geno met him head on and words like demanding and insistent and frantic and relentless came to mind. There was a lot of sucking and nibbling and grazing and hot slides of tongues and when it finally ended, both were breathing raggedly, their hearts thudding loudly in the sudden quiet of the room. Apparently one of them bumped the remote at some point and the tv turned off.

 

In the aftermath of the kiss, as Geno’s eyes raked along his face and body, Sid experienced an actual physical sensation from the look, a sort of tingling shiver of anticipation. When his body finally quit tingling, when his brain finally quit swirling, when all his parts finally fused back together into a somewhat cohesive and coherent whole, Sid squeezed Geno’s shoulders. “Do you think it’s always like this?”

 

“Like what?” Geno kind of rasped as his eyes returned to Sid’s face.

 

Sid thought about it for a second and was certain he couldn’t even begin to describe the tsunami that just plowed through his body from that kiss, so he opted for something simple. “Like… _wow_.”

 

Geno smiled. “Maybe should try again for see.” So they did, this time stretching out on the couch and making out for a solid fifteen minutes before Geno pulled back, just hanging on tight to Sid. It took the two of them several _more_ minutes to come back to earth.

 

“Ask is what number 1,” Geno said quietly when he was once again able to form words.

 

Sidney asked him and Geno whispered in his ear. He wasn’t expecting Sid to practically sever his arm in his haste to yank him off the couch and up the stairs to his bedroom. Then again, Geno wasn’t expecting _any_ of what happened that night. He was hoping, just not expecting. But like he always said, they had a strange way of doing things and it almost always worked for them. Geno offered a silent thank you to whoever was listening that _this_ was one of those times.

 


End file.
